


The Side He's On

by vecchiofastidioso



Series: Excerpts From a Bard's Life [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vecchiofastidioso/pseuds/vecchiofastidioso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an underlying reason for why Varric hasn't left the Inquisition as soon as the Breach was sealed, beyond 'world is in deep shit'. One cause he'll advocate above almost any other. And shit...that cause has come to the Inquisition.</p><p>Spoilers for Inquisition, specifically centering around Hawke's appearance. Mildly nsfw but no explicit sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Hard Decision

**Author's Note:**

> The opening of this fic was inspired by a post on Tumblr about Varric forgetting Hawke isn't with him anymore, calling "how many have you got, Hawke" and missing his friend despite the fact he really should be fighting for his life, only to have Hawke unexpectedly show up.

         It had been a couple years now since the last time they fought side-by-side.  
         He knew, down to the hours, just how long it was since they parted.  
         But for a moment, giddy from the rush of surviving, from getting three with one bolt, from the blood pumping and the adrenaline rushing through him, Varric forgot, just for a little while, how much time had passed and who he was with now.  
         "How many have you got, Hawke?"  
         But there was no freckled ginger to grin at his taunt. There was no flash of daggers, a triumphant soprano cry. There was no whistling thump from another of her arrows hitting their mark when fired from a bow Varric gave his Lady Hawke for a Name Day gift. No saucy, sassy Hawke watching his back. While the Herald wasn't looking, the Dwarf lowered Bianca when he meant to reload her, and stopped fighting with a severe pang of longing for the woman he'd left behind. He didn't care that enemies were closing in. For that moment, Varric Tethras was a lonely man wishing for the impossible instead of a confident tactician of a bard.  
         Then the ground shook.  
         Dirt and flames filled the air, mingled with shrieks of pain and dying groans.  
         For another moment, Varric was bewildered. Then he was shaken out of his stupor.  
         "You give up now, Varric, and I just might catch up to you!"  
         No.  
         There was no blighted way...  
         But there was the glint of sunlight on copper curls. There was the flash of a very familiar blade. There was an acrobatic woman, dealing death as she danced and her blue eyes laughed.  
         Maker, no, this had to be an illusion. But just in case it was real, he should get to fighting again. Use every trick up his sleeve to end this battle so he could check for himself. And when the dust all cleared, he didn't even complain for once about getting blood on his coat. He strode over with purpose to the grinning midget with oh-so-freckled skin, with fluffy hair that glowed in the sunlight, with irreverent sky-blue eyes, disregarding the return of his companions.  
         "Maker's breath, woman! What are you doing here?!" Varric shouted as he gripped leather-clad shoulders. She was _real._ She was there. She was arching an eyebrow at him without apology or any sense of shame.  
         "Obviously saving my trusty Dwarf. What does it seem like I'm doing?"  
         "You aren't supposed to be here, Milady Wife," he growled. Ah...but...he was glad to see her. Terrified as he realised his moment of weakness earlier could have cost him his life, or hers. But glad enough to see his Freckles that he yanked her into a fierce kiss that soon gentled as those tiny fingers of hers gripped at his coat lapel and his hair. She was behaving, obviously, or else she'd have her fingers curled in his chest hair as they kissed. He knew his Hawke, knew what she liked and how to talk to her, and still he glowered at her when he broke the kiss. "You should be at home. Taking care of our niblet. And, oh, I don't know, _keeping away from the Inquistion?_ "

         Varric may be doing a good job of playing the irate husband, but Aubrey knew he was glad to see her. She'd seen his shocked then miserable expression when he realised he'd taunted a woman he thought was there when really, if things were as expected, she shouldn't be there. Those big blue eyes of hers caught his stunned delight when he saw yes, she _was_ there. And he did a much better job at kissing her than making Aubrey feel like she wasn't wanted there.  
         "The niblet is fine," Aubrey murmured. She hooked her arms around her husband's neck and sighed. He wasn't the only lonely one. "You don't realise where you are, do you?" Obviously he didn't, judging by his blank expression. "This is half a day's journey from my cousin's home. We heard the Inquisition was passing through."  
         "Andraste's tits." The bard had stayed with the Inquisition forces specifically to make sure they stayed away from Aubrey Tethras, formerly Aubrey Hawke, and from the little family they had growing. He was obviously irritated at himself for not remembering they had family in the area, family that Aubrey might visit, and she tightened her grip to get his attention. It didn't matter that they had a curious audience that was starting to cough pointedly.  
         "So here I am. And now I've seen you." The ginger kissed her man softly with one last caress to his cheek. "And _be careful._ I really _will_ cry myself to sleep without my trusty Dwarf."  
         Ah. There. There, the warmth was back in his eyes, though his smile was bittersweet. "You know me, Freckles. I can't stand to see a human cry."  
         "You should say you can't stand to see a beautiful woman cry."  
         "And you should learn how to stay out of trouble."  
         Aubrey chuckled huskily. "Mmm, but that's why you married me: a mutual love of stirring up trouble."  
         "Wench."  
         "Fool."  
         "I love you too, Freckles."

         Little did Varric expect that mere weeks after sending Aubrey off again, he would be asking his lady love to visit Skyhold. And Maker, did he hate it. No man enjoyed putting their loved ones in harm's way. And when he told the Inquisitor it was complicated...it really was.  
         Complicated in the form of 'so I lied to the Lady Seeker about not knowing where Hawke was and if Cassandra finds out, I'm probably dead'.  
         "Aaaaagh, I wish I hadn't called you out here," he grumbled, arm around his ginger lady's shoulders. "It's a real mess, Freckles."  
         "Worse than Kirkwall? Worse than mages and Templars?"  
         "Oh yeah. You have all those and more." The Dwarf sighed as he let his arm drop. "Look, I'll let the Inquisitor explain. Just wait out of sight until I bring her."  
         Blue eyes slanted over to the bard with a clear _you had better get me explanations_ look, and it was like the years fell away. They were right back to the days when they had fortune and no knowledge of red lyrium, when Varric had yet to taste of Hawke's sweet lips or charm the suspicion right out of her. He chuckled and leaned in to drop a kiss on his lady's lips. "Trust me, Freckles."  
         Aubrey snorted softly and smirked at her husband. "Oh, I trust you. I wouldn't have let you go off without me if I didn't. But I know you, Varric Tethras."  
         "So you do." Varric smirked right back and spread his arms as he backed away. "All the more reason you should trust me. When have I led you wrong?"  
         "Should I dignify that with an answer?"  
         He sighed and dramatically pressed one hand to his chest. "My lady! You wound me! I think I should get our fair Inquisitor before you do me more harm!"

         Of course, it wasn't the petite redhead who _really_ did damage to Varric Tethras, crack shot and storyteller supreme.  
         "You knew where Hawke was all along!"  
         Throwing Cassandra's hands off of him angrily, Varric retorted, "You're damned right I did!" before ducking a punch that would have been vicious if it connected.  
         "You conniving little shit!" the Seeker snarled.  
         "You kidnapped me! Interrogated me!" the bard yelled right back as he dodged and put a table between them. He didn't regret what he did, not for one second, and the anger welled back up. Varric remembered how it felt to be grabbed, manhandled, dragged into what had half the time been his home with Hawke. "What did you expect?!"  
         If it hadn't been for the Inquisitor's interruption, Varric might well have laid into Cassandra with all the vocabulary at his disposal to elaborate on his thoughts about that time spent in Hawke Estate, curtains drawn to darken the room and increase the pressure and drama. His concern they might find his heavily pregnant wife in the Hightown market before her keenly honed senses could spot the Seekers of Truth. But the Inquisitor and Cassandra arguing let him take a moment to let the rage simmer down.  
         "We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," the warrior continued in a more moderate voice. "First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished."  
          _Yeah. She's the Inquisitor now, and you don't even know it. Found that out last week._ Varric darted a glance over to the Inquisitor, who thankfully wasn't in Cassandra's field of view at the moment. Otherwise, he suspected she would soon have the Seeker's attention, what with that blush and all.  
         "Then, we looked for Hawke, but she was gone too. We thought it all connected, but no." Cassandra glared at the Dwarf. "It was just _you_. You kept her from us."  
         Like that was actually a bad thing! He felt his anger welling up again, and tried to keep it down as he gestured to the Elf beside him. "The Inquisition _has_ a leader."  
         "Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If _anyone_ could have saved Most Holy--!"  
         As if Hawke hadn't done enough for these people already. As if they hadn't done enough shit to her.  
         "Varric's not responsible for what happened at the conclave," Éimhir mercifully interrupted.  
         "I was protecting my friend!" Somehow, barely, Varric managed to keep from shouting _I was protecting my wife!_  
         In hindsight as he trudged back downstairs, Varric realised it might have earned him some sympathy. If not from Cassandra, then from the Inquisitor. But on the other hand...it was one more thing he'd kept out of the story he told Cassandra back in Kirkwall. He never told her about the betrothal, the stolen kisses, the times he made Hawke gasp his name in the throes of pleasure. Those were private. Like the story of Bianca. Some things just...didn't need to be part of the narrative.  
         Half an hour later, he didn't regret it. He had his lady in his arms and his fingers buried in her hair. She had her little hands curled in his chest hair, and it felt like the world was righting itself with the power of her kisses. If Aubrey was the Inquisitor...well, it would make for interesting roleplay. But his lady was stressed enough. No. It was for the best he didn't tell. People needing a hero had done enough to her.  
         "And how's the niblet?" Varric murmured, carrying his wife to bed.  
         "Growing." Aubrey lifted her arms when the storyteller began tugging up her tunic, obligingly letting him bare her upper body layer by layer. "He stays awake longer these days, and he started smiling. But I think he could use his father too."  
         The Dwarf sighed and buried his face in his lady's chest. "I know." He nuzzled the side of one breast, hand coming up to curve over the plump mound. "I'd come home if I could. But..."  
         "I know."  
         "This would be a lot more fun if you were here, gotta admit." Varric chuckled and looked up from his comfortable position between Hawke's legs and along her torso. "You've got a way with words."  
         "And you have a way with your hands."  
         "So I've been told." One of those hands was busy re-familiarising itself with the curve of Aubrey's breast, more munificent (if possible) than when they first met. It was heavy with milk, ready to nourish their child, and Varric's caresses made his wife sigh with contentment. "Better?"  
         When his lips fastened over one pink nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive skin, a happy noise escaped from Aubrey. "Mmmmmm...much."  
         Varric had his mouth full, so all he could do was chuckle while his hand caressed his lady's other breast to the sound of her soft 'ah...' of enjoyment. He'd missed Aubrey over the months since he left her to attend the Conclave at Cassandra's behest (but really, more as a prisoner). That brief encounter a few weeks ago hadn't been enough to properly assuage his longing for her. He had a lot to make up for...and the Dwarf doubted his wife would object if he started now.


	2. His Real Motivations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the major secrets Varric's been trying to keep hidden are now out in the open. Everything he didn't want as part of the narrative. All in the face of one of his greatest fears.
> 
> Spoilers for potential fate of Hawke/Warden of choice.

         Varric hated this. He really, really hated this. He hated this more than...more than camping out in the woods. Much though the bard disliked the time spent away from his family, he hated having them in danger more.  
         Like right now.  
         Oh, it was just like old times: trotting along behind the lady of the swaying hips and the freckled neck. She’d cut her hair again before they left Skyhold, and Varric found himself missing the long curls. Still...shorter hair gave less purchase for enemies to grab onto.  
         And he could see the love bite he left the night before.  
         Having a fairly constant view of freckles he always enjoyed counting one by one, with his tongue and lips, helped improve his mood. A little. But Varric still hated this whole situation in general, no matter how lovely it was to fight at his wife’s side again and watch her do that lovely assassination shit. At least she hadn’t lost her touch.  
         “Still missing home?” she even quipped at one point, reminding him just how much he missed her sense of humour. “I mean, you’re still dealing with blood magic, demons, crazed Templars. Even dealing with Corypheus again. Guess I didn’t kill him nearly as well as I thought.”  
         “Freckles. I’m now in the ass-end of Thedas. You know they eat _snails_ here?”  
         “Maker forbid.”  
         Plus, there was no Freckles at Skyhold, not up until this point. And she wouldn’t even be there for long. Sure, there were pretty Dwarves a-plenty. Redheaded ones too. But none like his Freckles. No...he still missed home.

         Didn’t really miss Hawke’s knack for getting into shit though, which apparently rivalled their dear Inquisitor’s.  
         So long as his lady love was alive though. So long as he could save her. So long as—  
         No.  
         He saw it, from where he stood on the bottom of the steps leading to freedom. Varric could see the torment on Aubrey’s face when she realised someone had to stay behind, keep the Nightmare back, if everyone else was to escape.  
         “Hawke!” It was a cry of agony, a plea, a demand all in one.  
         “Go! I’ll cover you!”  
         “I’m not leaving without you!” He never would. Varric might have left their little family and been dragged to the Conclave by Cassandra, but he always dropped whatever he was doing for Hawke. He’d never let her down before. Never left her behind. He wasn’t about to start now. Freckles would cry herself to sleep at night without her trusty Dwarf? Well...Varric would too. And he’d hate himself forever if he left her behind. Especially if it was to save himself.  
         “Varric! Don’t argue with me! Just go!” Hawke shouted back with an angry flail of her arm.  
         But no. Varric wasn’t having it. He shook his head, just as angrily. “You little idiot, I mean what I said! If you stay, then I’m staying! You’ve sacrificed enough already, dammit!”  
         “She need not sacrifice more, Varric,” the Warden, Stroud, interjected. “The Grey Wardens started this. A Grey Warden must end it.”  
         But Hawke, being Hawke, couldn’t accept it. She left Varric in agony as she turned to argue with Stroud over who should stay. _Maker, please, if you really exist..._ Varric couldn’t even continue that thought, couldn’t entertain the possibility of his best friend, his partner, not having the Maker’s blessing. She’d gone through enough shit in the past ten years. Surely Andraste, the Maker, _some_ higher power smiled on her. Surely she wouldn’t just leave him like this, after all they’d been through.  
         The name _Stroud_ had barely cleared the Inquisitor’s lips in a whisper, her word final on who would stay, before the Dwarf was grabbing the Champion’s hand and yanking her up behind him, dragging her up the stairs. Okay, yes: panic thrummed through him with every rapid beat of his heart. A strong hand was gripping Hawke’s tighter than it ever had before, as if to make sure it was really there and wouldn’t slip out of his grasp. Varric didn’t even look to see if the Inquisitor was following them.  
         All that mattered was her.  
         Hawke.  
         Freckles.  
         Aubrey Jacqueline Tethras.  
         Getting her out. With him. Now.

         Aubrey winced as the tight grip engulfing her hand started to cut off circulation with that borderline pain, tingling, pins-and-needles sensation. Soon as they cleared the Rift, she protested, “Varric!” but that was as far as Hawke got before he whirled on her.  
         “You _idiot!”_ Varric yelled. Neither of them noticed how the celebratory cheers died down at his shout reverberating from damaged stone walls. “You’ve already done enough! You’ve already given enough, you little—! Haven’t people taken enough from you?! Must you give up the last shreds of your life like that?!”  
         She was stunned for a moment while her husband’s strong hands gripped her shoulders tightly. She could feel him trembling, but the adrenaline was still coursing through her as well. “I couldn’t just let you die back there!”  
         “I would have been fine! I can take care of myself! Of both of us! Andraste’s tits, Freckles, you don’t have to go all Champion and protect me,” he snarled. “You’ve done enough for the world! Stop being so damned ready to give everything for it. I didn’t lie to the Inquisition just so they could have you die for them!”  
         “I didn’t ask for you to lie to them!” Hawke protested indignantly, earning herself a tightening of Varric’s hands on her shoulders.  
         “No, you just _married me_ , you bloody madwoman, and I lied to protect you!”  
         Oh.  
         Oh, that was unfair.  
         It was unfair because Varric was right. And because he was looking at her with the most devastated expression on his scarred, bruised, and dirt-smeared face. He had married her. She had married him. She couldn’t just go running off saving the world. Aubrey sighed, her shoulders drooping, as Varric pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.  
         “Don’t _ever_ do that again, Aubrey Jacqueline Tethras,” the storyteller whispered into her ear. The ginger’s small-fingered hands gripped at that damned duster, clenching the material as the two rogues hugged each other tightly. “You’ve done enough. They’ve taken enough from you. Don’t let them take your life too.”  
         There was only one acceptable answer. “I won’t.”  
         “Good girl.” Varric chuckled, the sound somewhat shaky. Aubrey was sure that as he leaned in, he was going to give her a kiss, but a strangled noise of disbelief and a discreet cough behind them had the two rogues looking over to see Cassandra, the Inquisitor, and Dorian all with various expressions of shock and interest. “We should...cover this later.”  
         “But I should go to Weisshaupt,” Aubrey protested. Were her cheeks flaming? They probably were. It certainly felt like they were burning as she tried to extricate herself from her husband’s embrace. To no avail, of course. “The Wardens should be warned about what Corypheus is capable of.”  
         “Later, Freckles.” Varric squeezed her against his side. Possessively? ...Possibly. Not that Hawke really objected. “You can do that later.”

         Later, when Varric had his lady wife settled down in his quarters with a hot bath and an array of his clothes to make some sort of wardrobe choice out of, the Dwarf meandered Skyhold until he found the Lady Inquisitor. Coincidentally, she was with Cassandra. Two birds with one stone, really.  
         Blue eyes though Éimhir might have, they were an entirely different blue than his Lady Freckles’ eyes. The Elf’s were a cool blue, shot through with silver, and didn’t hold quite the mischief and laughter Aubrey’s bright blue orbs could contain. But they were just the right sort of blue where he’d be tugging at a shirt collar if he wore shirts with high collars. And Cassandra’s glare wasn’t helping matters.  
         “Listen, Your Inquisitorialness. I just...” Varric sighed and spread his hands helplessly. “I wanted to say thanks. For saving Hawke without knowing...you know. And I’m sorry I lied.”  
         The Inquisitor bowed her ashen head slightly, either in consideration or acceptance of his apology. “She is very important to you.”  
         He laughed shortly and shook his head. “You have no idea. Neither of you do.” Varric jabbed a thick finger in Cassandra’s direction. “You see her as a hero, and she is. But Hawke—no, Aubrey—is so much more than that. The time for her to be a hero is over. I lied to protect her because yes, she’s my friend. And she’s also my partner. I did what I had to.”  
         “We still need her,” the Seeker argued, but Varric shook his head again, more angrily this time.  
         She didn’t get it. Perhaps Lavellan did, considering her own past. But Cassandra was too idealistic at times, too concerned with doing what was right by the world. She was the sort who gave of herself freely too. Maybe she shared something in common with Varric’s lady in that regard. “No. You’ll have to do without her. The Inquisitor is doing a fine job of leading us and finding us allies. I won’t let you ask Freckles to give more. You lot have done enough to her, and she’s going home after she warns the Wardens.” When the Seeker obviously poised herself for more arguments, the bard cut her off with a slashing motion of his hand. “I didn’t want to ask for her help, but I did because her knowledge was necessary. But this is my final word. As her husband, as head of House Tethras, and as father of her child.”  
         Now all was laid bare. Everything he wanted to keep hidden away from the world, laid out before shocked eyes. But if that’s what it took...Varric sighed and waved his hand in exasperation, like he was pushing away something undesirable. “There you have it. All the dirty secrets I kept from you. Happy, Seeker?”  
         “I—this explains everything, I suppose.” Cassandra blinked and then frowned. “Why did you not tell any of this sooner?”  
         “Because not everything needs to get put down in books and legends.” The storyteller scowled with a shake of his head and an exasperated shrug. “The story of Aubrey Tethras, mother and wife, isn’t important to the story of Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. Because while I support the Inquisition and what it stands for, I will not have my family dragged into it any more than it already has. She deserves something of a normal life. Not the shit you’d put her through.” He sighed and turned to go. “Anyways. I still have some things to do before she leaves tomorrow. We’ll speak again later, Inquisitor, Seeker.”

         Aubrey looked up from reading the latest instalment of Varric’s worst romance series to date at the sound of the door opening. Waiting next to the fireplace in his chair, one of his shirts falling down one side to expose a heavily freckled shoulder...the sight brought a smile to the writer’s face.  
         “I’m guessing you yelled at the Seeker as ferociously as you did at me?”  
         “No, I didn’t really yell at her.” He chuckled and scooped his wife up so he could sit in the chair, and she in his lap. “More...reasserted how I don’t want you pulled into this shit any further.”  
         “Varric...”  
         He brushed a kiss against the redhead’s lips before claiming a slower, deeper one that had blue eyes drifting shut and a happy sigh exhaled against Varric’s skin. “Let me exercise some husbandly rights once in a while, Freckles. I just want to keep you safe.”  



End file.
